Faded
by Spectering
Summary: "She pushes the ring forward on her finger. She lets it rest there for a moment, toying with the courage to do the job fully. She locks eyes with him and it almost feels like a dare." - Donna knows when it's time to call it quits, even when she doesn't want to.
1. Chapter 1

_This is extremely au. This is kind of a what if Harvey had said he wanted a relationship with her at the diner instead of for her to work with him. Completely an assumption. Still contemplating about whether to do flashbacks or not. Anyway, this kind of makes Donna out to be an asshole at first, but it isn't supposed to be. I'm toying with a few ideas (regarding POV) so we will see where I go from there._

* * *

She stares at him from across the table. He's just as handsome as ever, with that cut jawline and his nose. His eyes are squinted, skin between his eyebrows knitted together in deep contemplation.

They've been looking at each other, not saying anything, for far too long. They are at a stalemate. Their perpetual lack of communication is a literal representation of just exactly how hard of a brick wall they have hit. They can't even plow through it.

It occurs to her, certainly but not suddenly, that they've been sleeping in separate beds for so long that they don't even have the same essence and elegance they once had. And she can pinpoint, because she still hasn't lost her edge, exactly where everything started. It was somewhere between years 6 and 7, where the jealousy really dug its claws in for dear life.

She accused him of it once, but he had committed to the deny, deny, deny. And her suspicions had been solidified when just a few short weeks later the massive rock came at her, flippantly and forcefully and undeniably, so she couldn't say no. For a short amount of time, the proposal had bandaged up their issues.

She, however, could not ignore it any longer. He loved her, he told her so about a thousand different ways just short of the actual words, but her daddy had taught her (through life lessons, also not words) that love alone can't fix everything. Love can't really fix anything without honesty...or communication. Communication just wasn't their strong suit anymore, which is really just a damn shame. They used to be so good at it.

She presses her thumb against the silver band on the under side of her ring finger. She toys with it constantly, probably too much for having worn it for two years, but she has gone without wearing it for much longer intervals than her wearing it. Every day she puts it on it still has a newness to it.

She pushes the ring forward on her finger. She lets it rest there for a moment, toying with the courage to do the job fully. She locks eyes with him and it almost feels like a dare. She huffs, annoyed and determined, before pulling the ring off completely with her free hand which has now abandoned her lukewarm glass of wine. She slams the perfectly formed metal-diamond mixture onto the table between them.

"I can't do this anymore, Harvey, I'm sorry," she says.

His angry facial expression fades so quickly that her heart aches. His mouth drops open, lips trembling with words that won't come to fruition. She watches his eyes glaze over as a helplessness settles in them.

"Donna," he finally says. She can hear his voice squeak and she almost abandons all courage. She watches him barrel to his feet, nearly knocking his glass of scotch off of the table. He says, "Wait."

"This just isn't working for me anymore," she replies. His tears touch her. She can feel her breath evading her. She has to do this. She stands as well. "I love you, Harvey."

"You can't be serious," he mutters, barely audible, "Donna, please. Think about what you're doing. Think about our daughter."

"Can I just stay here for tonight?"

He sighs, defeated. He says, "Of course."

She watches on as he drops into the chair, more broken than she's ever seen him. She doesn't like the sight before her. She doesn't know how to help. They've grown apart.

She doesn't touch her glass of wine, just scurries off to her room, the sound of her heels etching a path into the walls.


	2. Chapter 2

8 YEARS AGO

It's too soon, she knows. Especially since her career is just beginning to bloom and Harvey's is flourishing. Her film debut has been all lined up. She even had to pay a voluptuous fee for her SAG card, which Harvey wasn't necessarily pleased about but she told him it was her money and to stay out of it. That had been their first fight in the year they've been together, and it was one that nearly broke them up.

She's sure that this...new development, is certainly just going to push them over the edge. He's supposed to be at her apartment already, on the verge of being extremely late rather than just fashionably late, and today is not the day to test her. She is due on the red carpet in less than an hour and he had promised to be her date, promised to play the role of supportive boyfriend.

The hair and makeup team has came and gone, and she is about 3 seconds away from leaving when he enters her apartment in such a panic. She thinks he is absolutely adorable in his three piece suit. He splurged for a new one, dipped into his savings even though he's already saved plenty over the last year.

She had firmly planned to be mad at him for running late but he just looks a mixture of so many emotions. They are a cross between nervous and apologetic. Both surprisingly attractive features on him (mostly because both typically only occur for her).

She was going to break the news to him after they walked the red carpet, but she just feels like it's retching outside of her. His nervousness reminds her of how nervous she is...about walking the red carpet for the first time, about finding out she's pregnant, about telling him that he's going to be a father. This isn't even something they'd ever spoken about. For knowing each other for so long their relationship has been running painfully slow.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, running his hands over his front to iron out the wrinkles. He does that when he's nervous. "We still have time, right? I'm so sorry."

She smiles at his apology. She finds it very difficult to stay mad at him when he says he's sorry. He has grown a lot just in the last year.

"No. We don't have time," she replies softly. She shakes her head slowly. She reaches for his hand and leads him over to the couch.

"Oh," he says, guilt-ridden.

"I have to tell you something," she says. She's bursting at the seams.

"Okay," he murmurs. His eyebrows knit together, face flooding with confusion. He checks his watch, quickly lifting it a bit closer to his face to get a better look. "We have plenty of time for you to get there on time. I know you're nervous, but-"

"Stop talking," she interjects with a grin. He shuts his mouth then, annoyed but obedient. He nods slowly. She appreciates him being extremely supportive but he really just has to carry this weight with her. "Harvey..."

"Donna," he repeats. He leans forward, and touches her by the hips. He pulls her towards him. "Look at you, you look beautiful. It would be a shame not to show you off."

"Harvey," she says again, this time warningly. He tugs her down, guiding her to take a seat on his lap. Reluctantly, she does it, realizing the weight would be an anchor on him when he hears the news. "I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"I took a test today and it said I'm pregnant," she says. She looks at his face to see this dorky confusion. One eyebrow is lifted on his forehead, head tilted slightly to the side. For once, she can't read this expression. "We just, we never talked about how we feel about children."

"It's great," he says, suddenly, detached and wanly. He is void of emotion. He looks at his watch again and pushes at her hips, encouraging to get up. "If we leave now, you can still get your fifteen minutes."

She nods slowly and stands. He quickly follows her movement, reaching for her purse and handing it to her. He gives her a smile then, just as quickly leans forward and presses his lips against her jaw just below her cheekbone. He would say he doesn't want to mess up her lipstick.

She wishes, however, that he'd had some kind of reaction, whether it be complete denial or pure joy. He is an animal of his own kind. Maybe he just needs some time to digest it.

* * *

PRESENT

Every time she leaves her daughter, her heart breaks. By now, of course, Lexi is used to it and doesn't much bat an eyelash at her teary-eyed goodbyes. Lexi doesn't think anything of it this time either despite the fact that this time is different. Donna prepares herself for the inevitable water works.

She rolls her bag into the living room and sets her purse down on top of it, her carry on beside it in the floor. She sucks in a deep breath, preparing herself to face him after what was most definitely an unexpected disaster the night before. He couldn't have possibly seen it coming. He's better at denial than her.

She glides to the kitchen, her silk jumpsuit aiding her in her mission to look calm, collected and unscathed despite the fact that she feels as though she could cry at any moment. The truth of the matter is that he is not her husband, had only been her fiancé for 2 years and had been her boyfriend for 7. Even though they have been together, professionally and personally combined, for 11 years, they managed to take their time.

He always said slow and steady wins the race.

Turns out he was wrong.

They have a glorious home together. A 3 bedroom high-rise apartment in the expensive part of the city where 3 bedrooms is unheard of. With their combined incomes it had been a more than affordable buy. The third bedroom had started as the guest bedroom but the more she traveled, the more she became the guest using it. Often times she was coming in late and didn't want to disturb him. Other times she just couldn't be bothered with the excruciating exhaustion that came with maintaining their relationship. He didn't even seem to notice for quite some time.

The sound of her heels gives her away before she even enters the room. It feels like a punch to the gut how attuned with her he is. They are no longer engaged. They will no longer be married.

"Hey," he greets, a little too peppy given what transpired last night. She offers him a tight smile and the quickest glance she can manage. She doesn't want to look at him for too long, truthfully, she still loves him but they just aren't right for each other anymore. "I made your favorite."

He turns to face her, a plate full of his delicious and fluffy pancakes that she adores so much. He is using his tactics to try and persuade her decision. Perhaps he is doing his best to pretend it had never happened at all. She takes a long look at his apology, despite the fact that she knows he doesn't even know what he is or should be apologizing for, and feels guilty. She can't eat his pancakes after what she's done.

"I'm sorry," she says, softly, convincingly; after all, she is an actress, "I can't eat before a flight. Makes me quesy."

He furrows his eyebrows in response, knowing full well that it isn't the truth. He is annoyed, but he accepts her lie most likely for their daughter's sake. He places the plate of his famous pancakes back on the counter, left untouched until they become the trash can's companion.

"Are we taking you to the airport, Mommy?" Lexi asks. Her eyes fill with tears. She hadn't told him that it's better she get a cab ride than they take her, for the sake of both of their interests. Usually when she flies out on Saturday they drop her off at the airport.

Donna lifts her hand and brushes it through Lexi's hair. She wants to say no, make up something other than the truth about why they can't. But when she opens her mouth, that isn't quite what tumbles out.

"If Daddy wants to," she says.

She drops Lexi's hair from her fingertips. The little girl with Harvey's chocolate colored eyes looks expectantly at her father. She feels awful for putting him in this situation. He smiles brightly, like he too is an actor, and she almost feels the reassurance meant for their daughter.

"Of course I want to take Mommy to the airport. Are you kidding me?" Harvey says like he's excited at the prospect. She watches on as he picks up Lexi and swings her around. He ushers her out of the room. He adds, "Go get dressed and we can go to the park afterwards."

He really is the better parent.

* * *

She knows she's the one who decided to end it, but she really needs him to be her date to the premiere of her upcoming film. It would just be hell if after all of these years she went solo to a premiere. In the 9 years they've been together, he's accompanied her to every single one. Which always gives her something to boast about because without them ever actually tying the knot, he's still New York's most eligible bachelor.

And he's excellent arm candy. He always makes the perfect date. He is polite and surprisingly personable to other guests. He makes her feel like a star. No matter how bad things might be going before.

She didn't tell him when she was coming back to New York, but she's hailing a cab to go to the apartment right now. She caught an early flight from Vancouver and she's almost positive he won't be home from work yet. He may be the more present parent, but he also works long hours.

Once she gets to the apartment though, she has a very different reality that what she was expecting. He's sitting on the couch in a pair of khaki pants and sweater, shoes missing, paperwork spread across the coffee table. If she didn't know any better, she would guess he didn't even make it to work.

"What's wrong?" She says, foregoing the greeting.

"What?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She gestures to his attire and it seems to dawn on him when he fully looks down. His mouth tightens and he looks at her again. "Oh. Lexi is sick. She's sleeping."

"Did you take her to the doctor?" She asks, slightly panicked.

"Calm down, I know what I'm doing," he replies, standing from his position on the couch. He stretches, arms above his head, stomach slightly exposed as his shirt rides up. His back cracks, showing the years he has ahead of her. He moves across the living room to meet her. "Doc said it's a twenty-four hour bug. She'll be good as new tomorrow."

She watches as he picks up her bag by the handle and moves across the living room with it. He disappears down the hallway, and she trails along for good measure. She thinks he's ignoring their break up, although their phone conversations have stayed the same as always, mostly in the topic of Lexi.

She stops in the doorway of their daughter's room, instantly forgetting that she's keeping an eye on him so he doesn't take her bag into the master bedroom. Lexi is fast asleep. That's how she knows the little girl is sick, she doesn't normally take naps.

She hears his footsteps on the floor to indicate his return from wherever he'd discarded her bag. She doesn't bother looking at him, but the weight of the air shifts as he comes to a stop beside her. She can't help herself as she reaches out and presses a hand against his sternum.

"When did you take her to the doctor?" She mutters, barely loud enough for even her to hear."

"About two hours ago," he answers. She absently pushes off of him and leans back against the doorframe, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He mimics her movements, his foot pressing up against hers. "Don't you worry your pretty little head. I've got this."

She wants to be annoyed by his phrasing, the demeanor in which he suggests she not be bothered with such a thing. The irony of the matter is that, after all, he's the one who has been making decisions for their daughter without much input from her. How many times has Lexi been sick and she doesn't even know?

"Harvey," she says softly, the guilt fully setting in.

She looks at him then, an ache in her chest at the sight of him. She knows without a doubt that he's ignoring their break up because the man doesn't handle rejection at all. She loses all of her resolve at the sight of him. All of the anger and stress he's been barbering over the last few months seems to have washed away.

She wants to kiss him.

"She's going to be okay," he says reassuringly.

She nods slowly. Her gaze returns to their daughter's sleeping form. She feels tears prick the corners of her eyes and she instantly leans into him for comfort. His arms receive her easily, sliding around her shoulders and enveloping her fully. He's warm and inviting and she feels like she's home.

She's such a fool.

She tilts her chin up to gaze at his face. She feels his body shift towards her. She moves her hand between them, barely mustering the courage to do so, and presses her fingertips against his chest. She looks away from him, his lips landing on her jaw. His breath is warm, mouth soft. He's a more delicate man than anyone knows.

"We shouldn't," she says, voice constricting in her throat.

"Why not?" He asks.

She doesn't know how to answer him. She never really gave him the opportunity to ask why exactly this wasn't working for her anymore. And, really, if she tried to answer she isn't entirely sure that she could. She just stopped feeling fulfilled in her life with him.

He adds, "You love me. I love you. We share a life, a kid, a house. What's getting in the way?"

"When was the last time we did anything together, just you and me?"

"You're never around," he deadpans, the accusation clear as the day as she would be flying directly towards the sun. It fucking burns just like that, too. He huffs, the space between them suddenly predominate than it was just a minute ago. "I stay here, work a demanding job, take care of our daughter, and you want to leave me?"

"It's my fault," she admits, "I haven't been what either one of you need. I'm not trying to pretend that I have been, but we can't just keep going through the motions."

"Whatever," he says, "If either of us were really what you wanted, you wouldn't run off every chance you had. You could have it so much worse, you know."

"Are you talking about your mother?" She asks, his incredulousness finally stinging her every nerve. "Funny, because it seems you finally know how she felt."

"You have no right to compare me to her," he snaps, deep into the back of his throat. Every time they're in the same room, they fight. How can this possibly be what he wants? "I've never once thought about cheating on you."

"You're not happy. Can't you see that?"

"Keep telling yourself that you're doing me a favor," he growls. He takes a step away from her, moving back towards his bedroom. He sighs about 4 feet from her and turns to face her again. "Can you watch her? I have work to do."

She swallows thickly and nods.


End file.
